


A Heavy Heart to Carry

by Runaround_Stu



Series: "I Love You" Never Felt Like Any Blessing [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Choking, Depression, Fade to Black, Game Spoilers, M/M, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 08:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10301978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runaround_Stu/pseuds/Runaround_Stu
Summary: A series of moments in Gladio and Noctis's relationship, revolving around depression, self-destructive behavior, and the burdens that people carry for one another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through the end of the game.

 

Prince Noctis trudged through life like a sleepwalker. He had done so since early childhood. It might have been his temperament, but the stresses of his short life had taken their toll as well. He got much worse after his childhood injury. No one saw his sweet smile for years. Eventually the smile returned, but it was well guarded and he doled it out in tiny servings, like a child being forced to share his candy. Even now, only his closest friends could read the subtle signs that meant he was really happy. During state functions, classes, and other social situations he was withdrawn, trying to look like the kind of person who was silently absorbing everything. Sometimes he drifted off to sleep. Only his advisor-cum-parental-figure Ignis, his Sword and Shield Gladiolus, and his comfortingly plebeian best friend Prompto ever saw him cheerful. The only one of the three who could evoke any real energy in the prince on a regular basis was Gladiolus. 

There were several reasons for this. The first was that if Noctis didn't show appropriate vigor in training sessions, he would be thumped even harder and more often with the practice swords, which were non-lethal but no less painful for it. Gladio never let Noctis off easy. If the prince threw a teenage tantrum, hurling his sword in frustration or sitting on the floor and refusing to continue, Gladio either continued his onslaught until Noctis was forced to defend himself, or simply waited. Gladio would not spoil him the way Ignis did. At the same time, Gladio was not stupid. He could see when dark thoughts were weighing too heavily on the fragile prince, and those were the times he eased off, even when Noctis didn’t demand it.

The other reason Gladio inspired Noctis was that Noctis had had a crush on him for the past several years. Originally, Noctis had seen Gladio as a bully, a snob, and just one more person who judged him unfairly because he was the Prince. In the years since Nocits had shown Gladio his selfless side, protecting Gladio’s beloved little sister, Gladio had come to treat Noctis a bit like a younger brother as well, in that he was allowed to mess with him, but would make anyone else who did regret it deeply. Noctis responded well to that treatment. He liked feeling protected but not babied. The crush had followed, only a logical development as Gladio grew from an adolescent into a very attractive, very muscular young man.

Noctis had spent hours running through the same debate in his mind about whether or not he should confess his feelings. He had decided that he was going to have sex, but he could only hope it would be with Gladio. The day he finally made a move, he had not planned it in advance. It was a beautiful, clear day. He and Gladio were sparring in the yard. The grass was springy under their feet, which was lucky for Noctis, who was being knocked back into it hard and repeatedly.

“Wake up, Noct!” Gladio grunted as he waited for Noctis to climb back to his feet.

Noctis didn't reply, just slowly stood up and readied his stance, eyes unfocused, mind elsewhere. After a few more rounds, Gladio knew that was enough; the kid was hardly defending himself today, and he didn't seem to care about being whacked with the heavy weapon.

“Let’s call it a day,” Gladio said. It was not really a suggestion. He knew that in this state, he could wail on Noctis until he was black and blue all over and the boy would never fight back properly. “Go inside and take a shower.”

Noctis obeyed. He stripped down in the locker room and turned the water on as hot as he could bear, and stood under it for a long time. When he had dried off and dressed again, he was pleasantly surprised to find Gladio waiting outside the locker room door. “Walk me back to my rooms?” Noctis suggested impulsively.

“Sure, I've got a couple minutes,” Gladio replied. As they meandered down the hallway together, Gladio reflected on the young man at his side. He was maturing, even if he was still an irresponsible little shit. He was becoming very handsome, though. The entertainment news shows loved his face. Gladio had even found a website that counted down the days until Noctis’s eighteenth birthday, which made Noctis turn as red as a Lucian tomato.

Noctis made no conversation as they walked. He _had_ been a little distant lately, even by his standards, Gladio thought. Was something wrong? Or maybe he didn’t need the friendship of his bodyguard now that he had at least one real friend of his own age. That thought made Gladio frown. He probed, “How’s school and everything? How are your friends?”

“Fine,” Noctis shrugged, “Prompto’s fine. Oh, but you know what? My dad might let me get my own apartment in the city once I get my driver's license.”

Gladio barked out a laugh, “You, alone? Who's going to change your diapers?” Internally, he flinched at the idea. How could he protect Noctis if he wasn't in the Citadel?

Noctis punched his companion on the arm, hard by anyone else's standards. “Honestly, though. It'll be nice to have some space to breathe.”

“Don't think you'll get out of training,” Gladio warned, “I'll come kidnap you myself if I have to.”

“As nice as it would be to skip training, you're not the one I need space from,” Noctis sighed, “It's not anyone, really. It's just--everything.” He quickly clamped down his façade of impassivity over his face again. “Anyway, I'll be able to have all the parties I want.”

When they arrived at the door to Noctis’s suite, Noctis invited Gladio inside. That was the moment he decided what he wanted to do.

Gladio checked the time. “Alright. Just for a minute.” They both walked in and immediately slumped on the sofa.

Noctis looked at over at Gladiolus, meeting his eye for the first time that day with a peculiar expression. He tentatively reached out and brushed his fingertips over Gladio’s thick bicep. Gladio didn't understand the way Noctis was looking at him, glancing up and down through his eyelashes, until it finally hit him that that was exactly the way a shy girl at a bar looked at him when she was interested. Noctis’s hand reached up to Gladio’s cheek. Gladio almost panicked, but he masked it and instead just shifted away gently from Noctis’s touch, pretending he hadn’t noticed.

“I assume Ignis is teaching you to drive,” Gladio said, as casually as ever. Inside, his thoughts were racing. Did Noct really have a _crush_ on him? Is that what all the shyness and funny glances had been about? His immediate,instinctual revulsion at the idea of being intimate with his Prince faded rapidly into something else as he thought it over. Noct was not a bratty child anymore. He was almost sixteen and sullen but very beautiful. The gossip rags weren't wrong. The idea of kissing him, or more, seemed better and better the more Gladio mulled it over. He supposed that the desire had been there for a while, suppressed. He was concerned about their age difference. He was really not that much older, but Noctis was only fifteen, and those few years amounted to a lot of life experience. Gladio didn't want to be accused of taking advantage of the boy. On the other hand, Noct was the Prince of Lucis. He could have any material thing he wanted with a snap of his fingers. _Maybe I should be more worried about_ him _taking advantage of_ me, Gladio thought wryly.

“Oh, yeah,” Noctis replied after a silence that dragged on too long. He drew his hand back. He knew that they both knew what he had tried to do, but he hoped the moment would pass and be forgotten. He wanted to disappear.

Gladio ignored all the responsible parts of his mind. He snatched Noctis hand and pulled it back toward him. “Noct… what do you want?” The question hung in the quiet room. He wanted to hear Noctis say it.

“I want you to kiss me,” Noct said, making eye contact that was both flirtation and confrontation, like he was daring Gladio to mock him while simultaneously trying to turn him on.

Gladio was surprised only by Noctis’s directness. “Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his hold on Noctis’s hand. Gladio was about to do make a very poor professional decision. What would his father think? He willed that terrifying thought away before he could dwell on it. He didn’t want to think about his father right now.

“Yes,” Noctis replied firmly, emboldened by the fact that Gladio hadn’t run away in disgust or laughed at him, “Isn’t it your job to take care of me?

Gladio started slowly by gathering Noctis in his arms. Noctis sighed at the feeling of being enveloped in strong limbs. “I think that's Ignis’s job, actually,” Gladio said, “My job is to beat your ass in the training room.”

Noctis scoffed. “I don't want this from Ignis.”

Gladio chuckled and stroked Noctis’s cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “Noct, you know this isn't… appropriate, right? It's probably an abuse of authority.” Gladio didn't specify whose authority.

“Nobody needs to know,” Noctis reasoned.

“I suppose not,” Gladio replied, thinking over all the things he hadn't acknowledged he wanted to do to his Prince until just moments ago. He brushed Noctis’s bangs back. He wanted him more than anything, but he couldn't bear the thoughts of what could happen if it all went south.

“I'm not a virgin,” Noctis added suddenly.

Gladio’s eyes grew wide. “I, oh.” He was of two minds about that tidbit of information. He was glad to be free of some of the guilt of corrupting the young prince. Yet he wished Noctis’s first time had been with him. He would have taken care of everything. He felt the slight heat of jealousy in his chest, and that pushed him over the edge into action. If he couldn't have Noctis first, he would have him best.

Gladio pushed Noctis back on the sofa, kissing his inviting lips, claiming his mouth. He pressed the smaller youth down into the plush fabric with all his weight. Noctis responded eagerly, clutching Gladio’s hair in one hand and his shoulder in the other. Every little touch told Gladio that this was exactly what Noctis wanted. There was something in the way Noctis wanted him that made him impossible for Gladio to resist. It wasn't just lust or even love; there was a smoldering need below Noctis’s placid surface which Gladio was compelled to fulfill.  

Some time later, Noctis and Gladio lay naked and entwined on the bed. The sweat cooling on Noctis’s skin made him shiver. He pressed closer to Gladio, cheek to damp chest. “I was lying about not being a virgin,” he admitted quietly.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out,” Gladio replied.

“Are you mad?” Noctis asked.

“Nah,” Gladio said, pushing Noctis’s hair back from his sticky forehead. He was actually a little hurt that Noctis would lie to him, even about that. “But you're supposed to trust me. You don't need to lie.”

“Are you sorry we did this?”

Was he? No, not on a personal level. Only when he thought about what might happen if someone found out about it. He wasn't sure if he was more scared of King Regis or his own father discovering them. “No,” he said firmly.

“Good, me either.” Noctis closed his eyes and smiled, and Gladio thought it might be the first time he had seen Noctis smile only for himself.

* * *

 

After Noctis discovered both the vivifying and anesthetic effects of sex, Gladio’s life became significantly busier, which he did not mind at all. Nonetheless, he got some relief when Noctis discovered driving. Noctis didn't get his own car, but he was allowed to use almost any of the cars in his father's stable except the liveried vehicles.

Noctis felt the smooth hum of the car around him and saw the flashes of light from streetlights that whizzed by. He was speeding, but he wasn't concerned about consequences. He had only been driving for a couple years, but this little black sports car he had borrowed was unbelievably responsive. If a cop actually did stop him and then actually did give him a ticket even after seeing who was driving, it wasn't as though paying the fine would impact his father financially. In fact, it was almost like giving back to the city, Noctis decided.

Insomnia never slept, but there were times that were quieter than others, like a bit after midnight on a weekday. Then, Noctis could take the highway out of the city center and find long stretches of road where he was alone. If his friends or his father knew how fast and how recklessly he drove at these times, he'd probably have his license revoked, not the mention be hauled back to the Citadel where he could be kept under lock and key.

He sometimes went for late night drives with his friends, too. His driving tended to leave Ignis white-knuckled and lecturing. Gladio would tell him that if he got himself killed, he would kill him. Prompto would alternately let out whoops of excitement and squeals of fear. However, Noctis saved the really reckless driving for the times that he went out alone. He had no desire to endanger his friends’ lives. He didn't really like driving other people. He preferred to be alone at the wheel, or dozing comfortably as a passenger.

Noctis knew that his life wasn't his own. He had been raised knowing that, and lately it had begun to sink in more than ever. His life wasn't his own. His body wasn't his own. It belonged to Lucis, to the Crystal, to the people, and he had no right to gamble with it like this. But when he was speeding along an empty road and took a turn too fast and the wheels skidded on the asphalt, he would feel for a split second like that might be the end, and nothing on Eos was more comforting. The only thing that compared was when Gladio’s hand was on his throat and he could make himself forget for the briefest moment that Gladio would never actually hurt him.

* * *

 

Noctis had locked himself in his room at the Citadel after his father had told him about his arranged marriage to Lunafreya. It was part of the peace treaty. Noctis knew he should take on this task willingly, for the good of his kingdom. He kept his usual impassive mask on for his father, not wanting to burden him further, but the second he shut the door to his room he crumpled down into a squat, pressing his eyes into his knees. The problem was not that he hated Lunafreya. He loved her, in fact. The problem was that he did not love her in a way that was likely to lead to royal heirs. Being confronted suddenly with marriage was very different from the nebulous knowledge he’d always had that he would one day marry a woman.  

Even worse than having to make children with Luna was the thought that he was now staring down the barrel of the rest of his life: wedding; marriage; babies; his father's impending death; the Ring of the Lucii; the Crystal; statesmanship; war; politics; death. Noctis curled up on his bed.

Kings did not have time to stay up late playing video games with their friends. And there would certainly be no more late nights and stolen moments with Gladio. Luna was very understanding but he wasn't sure she would understand that. Noctis felt too cold. He wanted to sleep.

There was a knock at his door. He stayed silent. Finally, a gruff voice said, “Noct, it's me. Are you awake?”

At that, Noctis slowly rose to his feet and went to the door. He stepped back to let Gladio enter, then locked the door again behind him.

Gladio assessed Noctis’s eyes, which were bright and beautiful from the tears that were being held back. “This is how you react to the news that you're marrying one of the most beautiful and powerful women in the world?” he said finally, crossing his arms.

Noctis huffed and shoved past him to flop back down on the bed. “You don't get it.”

“I get it,” Gladio replied curtly, “But look, the irony is that princes and princesses don't get to have fairy tale love stories. You have a duty.”

Noctis groaned into his pillow. “I didn't let you in here to give me the duty lecture,” he said.

Gladio approached the bed, looming over Noctis. “Too bad, you're getting it. Noctis, you're pretty fucking lucky. You're marrying a beautiful, intelligent woman that you already love. You could be marrying some unknown beast.”

Being told how lucky he was made Noctis’s stomach turn. He curled up into a tight ball, back to Gladio. “Oh, fuck off,” he said, the hurt audible in his voice, “I guess you're okay with all this, then.”

Gladio’s expression softened. He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his thighs. “That's what you're worried about?”

It wasn't only that, but Noctis couldn't put the rest into words, so he concentrated on the part he understood. “Of course, dumbass,” he spat, “I doubt my wife will be thrilled about me fucking my bodyguard.”

Gladio shrugged, protecting confidence that he didn't entirely feel. “You may be surprised. She knows that you two are just friends and this is an arranged marriage. Anyway, we have some time before we need to figure it out.” He turned his body, reached out, and grabbed Noctis’s shoulder. He pulled forcefully, rolling him into his back.

After a moment, Noctis pulled Gladio toward him. He crushed their lips together, greedily seeking the momentary numbness of a little death.

* * *

 

After the initial shock wore off, Noctis was strangely silent about his father's death, expressing neither obvious grief nor any other feeling. The truth was that he had made his peace with his father's death years ago. He'd seen the king deteriorating, sucked dry by the Wall until he was a husk of his former self. When Noctis had realized what was happening, he grieved. When he had realized what this meant for him, the next in line, he'd been seized with fear. Only with the guidance of Ignis and Gladiolus did he begin to accept the duties he would have to shoulder.  
All that grief and fear was in the past now, in the ruins of Insomnia. Today his father was dead either way, and the circumstances of his death had given Noctis a temporary deferment on officially taking up the mantle of king. Noctis felt a tiny twinge of guilt at the relief that thought gave him.

Gladiolus knew Noctis was more affected than he showed. He knew the old signs. He could see it in the way Noctis slept more than usual and the way he warped recklessly into battle with no concern for his safety. But it was Gladio’s job to protect him from enemies, wild beasts, or from himself.

Noctis was a skilled magic user and more than passable with a weapon, but had never shown great dedication to honing his combat abilities back home. That had changed as they traveled the hinterlands of Lucis. The thrill of a real enemy and real danger triggered something in Noctis similar to the rush of driving too fast or being fucked until he cried. All three of these activities made the world around him fade away while also making him feel unbelievably alive in his body. Gladio was happy to finally see his trainee put real effort into his combat, though one result was that Gladio had to be even more vigilant in his protection.

When Noctis warped into the middle of a small swarm of flans, Gladio was right behind him, his sword sinking into a jelly-like daemon and pulling out with a sickening squelch. Noct had wrecked one of them with a lance, but ignored another one coming up behind him. “Wake up, Noct!” Gladio reprimanded him.

“Ah, sorry,” came the terse reply. The four men made quick work of the rest of the unpleasant daemons.

“I think I got some in my mouth!” Prompto wailed, spitting frantically after they cut down the last of the monsters.

Noctis let his sword disappear in a flash of blue. “I got it in my hair,” he commiserated with a shudder.

Gladio wiped the soles of his boots on the grass. He didn't mind the times when Noctis took his protection for granted. He was the Prince’s Sword and Shield, after all. But no, he was the King’s Sword and Shield. Gladio felt a knot tie in his stomach as he remembered what that meant. The former King and his Shield were both dead. Infinitely more and infinitely less important was the fact that those two men were Noctis’s and Gladiolus’s fathers. Gladio shoved his grief as far down as it would go before turning back to his comrades with a grin.

“Let’s book it to that haven,” he suggested, “before something worse pops out. Come on, Noct, I’ll race you!” He shoved Noctis playfully, then took off running toward the wisp of safe, magical light, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Noctis was following.

* * *

 

"Noct, wake up!"  
Noctis heard the voice dimly as if through a thick layer of murky water. It seemed to grab him by the collar and drag him upward, out of a deep well of sleep.  
"We're here."  
As Noctis's consciousness emerged into the light, he identified the voice--Gladiolus--and his location--the backseat of the Regalia, purring underneath him. He opened his eyes, wincing in the blinding glare of the sunset. “Where’s here?” he mumbled.

“Caem,” came Ignis’s soothing voice from the front seat. He turned the key and the car went silent.

“Oh yeah.” Noctis sat up, stretched, and yawned.

Prompto almost jumped over the car door in his haste to exit the vehicle. “I wanna get some pictures of the lighthouse in the sunset!” he exclaimed, “I'll be back!” He took off up the dirt path before anyone could stop him. Noctis smirked as he watched him jog away.

Gladio and Ignis were already grabbing their overnight bags from the trunk. Noctis sighed, grudgingly opened the door and stood up. Gladio tossed Noctis’s bag at him with unnecessary force. “Let’s go, princess. Iris and everyone else is waiting.”

Noctis grinned and patted the outside pocket of his bag, “Plus, I've gotta give these cactuars to Talcott. I can't wait to see his face.”

Ignis carried Prompto’s bag along with his own, and the three made their way up to the sweet little house where Monica, Dustin, Talcott, and Iris were waiting. It almost felt like coming home.

“Gladdy!” Iris squealed, launching herself off the front steps and into her brother’s arms. Gladio grinned and swung her around in a hug.

“I thought I saw Prompto run by,” Monica commented, peering out from the doorway.

“He had to head directly for the lighthouse to capture the perfect shot before the light changed,” Ignis explained as he entered the house, a note of amused affection in his voice.

Noctis, Gladiolus, and Ignis set their small bags in the upstairs room, then joined the group downstairs. The evening passed as a small oasis in their troubled lives. Gladio told exciting stories of hunts that all seemed to end with him saving everyone in the nick of time. Prompto cracked jokes that made Talcott crack up, the adults roll their eyes, and Iris stifle her giggles. Ignis cooked a beautiful dinner for everyone, happy to be in a real, if basic, kitchen. Noctis presented Talcott with not one, but two cactuar figurines, and everyone grinned at the boy's ear-piercing squeals.

Ignis declared that he would _not_ be doing the dishes. Prompto was surprisingly eager to volunteer, on the condition that Ignis keep him company in the kitchen while he cleaned.

Iris put Talcott to bed. He was old enough to put himself to bed, but Iris seemed to share her brother’s instinct for giving the people she cared about what they needed instead of what they wanted.

Noctis caught Gladio’s eye. “Take a walk with me to the lighthouse?”

Gladio nodded and the two excused themselves to walk up the path. It was a dark night, but the lights from the buildings and the lighthouse made it safe. The sky was a mess of stars.

They sat on some boxes that had been left outside the lighthouse. Noctis pet the cat that sauntered up and rubbed on his ankles. “I guess she decided to stay. Smart cat. I wish I could stay, too.” He looked up at the stars instead of at Gladio, knowing how the older man felt about shirking duties.

True to form, Gladio frowned. “A lot of people need you, Noct.”

Noctis shushed and then elbowed Gladio. “I know. But just let me have one night, okay?”

Gladio put his arm around Noctis’s shoulders as a reply. “It’s like having a little family here, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” Noct agreed. Then, “Gladio, kiss me.”

Gladio happily obeyed, catching Noctis’s lips with his own. Noctis put his hand on Gladio’s side, feeling the muscles shift under his thin tank top. “Gladio,” Noctis said when he pulled back for a breath, “Let’s go inside the lighthouse.”

Gladio grinned and resumed the kiss for a moment before getting to his feet and pulling Noctis into the lighthouse with him. It was very dark inside. Gladio pushed Noctis firmly against the wall with his body and kissed him again, more roughly, forcing his tongue into Noctis’s mouth.

“I want you to make me forget everything,” Noctis gasped out between kisses. Gladio knew he wasn’t just being euphemistic. Over the years, sex had become yet another way for Gladio to take care of Noctis. If he could make him forget his pain just for the length of an orgasm, it was worth it. And Gladio suspected that Noctis might seek out more dangerous escapes if he couldn’t find it with him. Of course, keeping Noctis sexually satisfied had never been just a selfless good deed.

When they returned to the house,  Ignis and Prompto were sitting together, not quite touching. Ignis gave them a knowing look, but kept quiet.

“Noct! Ready to be destroyed?” Prompto grinned.

Noct flopped on the couch. “King’s Knight?” he asked, pulling his phone out.

“You know it. I gotta pay you back for last time!”

Gladio and Ignis pulled their phones out, too, and the room went silent except for the occasional cry of victory or dismay.

“Yes! Finally got you!” Prompto exclaimed suddenly, “Suck it, Noct! Noct?”

Noctis was asleep, his phone dangling precariously from his fingers, his head on Gladio’s shoulder.

* * *

 

Noctis had never felt more alone in his life. He was surrounded by his brothers in arms in the glow of a warm campfire, but he wanted to pitch himself off the edge of the haven. Unfortunately, if he did that he would probably instinctively warp himself to safety before he hit the ground. And even if he didn't, the fall wouldn’t be enough to really hurt him.

Their situation felt hopeless. Ignis was blinded, seemingly wrapped up in his own thoughts, trying to pull his weight as they navigated the quarry. Prompto wasn’t doing his usual work of lightening the mood and keeping everyone happy; his jokes would have fallen flat anyway, and he was occupied with caring for Ignis while the other two men bickered. Gladiolus wasn’t speaking to Noctis except for the occasional terse command to slow down when Ignis fell too far behind. Noct thought bitterly that if Gladio were so concerned about Ignis, he should be leading him around instead of Prompto.

Now they were seated around the fire, Gladio’s chair pulled away from the group, all of them deep in their own thoughts. Noctis was brooding. What was Gladio’s problem? Noctis was used to his brand of tough love, used to Gladio pushing him when he thought he couldn't go any farther. But that was nothing like the confrontation on the train. Noctis wondered if Gladio was jealous of Luna. He had never been jealous before, even when they were all eagerly on their way to Noctis and Luna’s wedding. It would be pretty fucked up to be jealous of Noctis’s grief over a dead friend. Or was he really that worked up about Noctis’s royal duties? Noctis huffed and slumped down farther in his chair. Ignis turned his head toward him at the sound, but said nothing.

Gladio sat in his camp chair, holding an open book, his eyes scanning down the same page again and again. He was still fuming. When he glanced at Noct, he saw the twelve year old brat that Gladio had claimed he would never serve. Had he really not changed since then? Had Gladio been blinded to the Prince’s true nature by his love, duty, and lust? Gladio thought that Ignis spoiled Noctis beyond belief. _Ignis won’t be playing mommy again any time soon_ , Gladio thought cruelly, and immediately regretted the thought. He wondered if he spoiled Noctis, too, despite his show of tough love. The thought only made him angrier. He wondered if Noctis understood how much weight the others carried for him. Of course he didn't. It was Gladio’s duty and calling to silently and untiringly carry as much as he could for Noctis, and then to carry Noctis forward when his burden became too great.

Noctis fell asleep in his camp chair. No one woke him.

* * *

 

Noctis climbed into the small metal bed with Gladiolus. They hardly fit. Noctis had to curl up half on top of the much larger man, but he didn't mind. Neither Prompto nor Ignis cracked any jokes. There was nothing funny about it. The atmosphere was heavy. They had one glimmer of hope: they just had to get the crystal. But first, they needed to rest.

Noctis nuzzled against the side of Gladio’s face. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, so softly that even Gladio could barely hear it.

“For what?” Gladio murmured, hugging Noctis a little tighter.

“Everything,” Noctis replied.

“Don’t be,” Gladio said, “This is why we’re here.” Noctis knew he didn't mean here, in this nightmare floating fortress. Gladio meant that he had been put on Eos to serve Noctis.

“I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Try to rest,” was Gladio’s only reply.

Noctis felt like he had hardly blinked when he heard Gladio’s deep, comforting voice. There was a small hint of his old humor in it. “Wake up, Your Majesty. You have a date with a crystal.”

* * *

 

Gladiolus wondered every single day if he could have done something different. He asked himself if there was any way he could have protected Noctis better, if there was any way his life could have been given to save him. But of course there wasn’t. Gladio could not interact with the crystal for Noctis, or make pacts with the Astrals for him. He had had to stand by helplessly when Noctis was faced with his greatest trials.

It was hard to be around Ignis and Prompto at the same time without Noctis there, too. Even two, five, nine years later his heart was raw, hope keeping the wound fresh. Gladio never let himself doubt that Noctis would return. Every time he reached for his sword to strike down a daemon, he renewed that hope in a flash of blue light. In the meantime, he had to make sure there was a world for Noctis to save when he returned.

* * *

 

Seated around the campfire, the four friends talked about the lives they had once had together. Cheerfulness would have been forced and inappropriate, but they did make an effort to keep conversation as light as possible. The unspoken end point for stories was the trip from Caem to Altissia. What else could they talk about? They certainly weren't going to waste their last night talk about the next day. And the past ten years held very little that anyone wanted to relive.

Noctis felt his chest tighten as he looked around. He wasn't afraid of death, but something inside him was resisting, silently begging time to slow and stop. The thought slowly crept into his mind: he didn’t want to die. It was an alien feeling. He felt like he was choking on it.

There had been many times in his life when he hadn't been trying to die. There had been times when he was distracted by good things until he forgot that he wanted to die. There had even been times when he thought that maybe being alive wasn't so bad, mostly when he was with Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto. But the grief at the thought of his own death, this impulse to turn and run, was new, strange, and painful.

He didn't know when he had closed his eyes, but he opened them when he felt a strong hand on his back.

"Wake up, Your Majesty," rumbled Gladio.

"I'm awake," Noctis replied, holding Gladio's gaze for a long moment. He had something to tell all of them, but before that, he focused on the light flickering in Gladiolus’s amber eyes. He leaned over and gave him a kiss, chaste but firm and unashamed. “Thank you,” he said simply. It didn’t feel like enough. But he could never accurately express his gratitude for what his friends had done for him, so he didn’t try. Even the sun itself seemed an inadequate gift to repay them for carrying him so far.

**Author's Note:**

> This is less "story" and more "self-indulgent masturbatory rambling about depression." Sorry. Also, I have no proofreader.
> 
> Title is stolen from the song "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence + the Machine, which was one part of my inspiration to write this.


End file.
